


Life After Death

by siriuslyapple



Category: DSMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, DSMP, Exile!Tommy, Ghostbur, Like Very Brief, Loss, Major character death - Freeform, Post Lmanberg first destruction, This Is Sad, Wilbur Soot - Freeform, brief dream, family copes with loss, i cried, sbi, tommy in exile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:34:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29550765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslyapple/pseuds/siriuslyapple
Summary: Tommy felt the world spinning for a moment, before he realized the sun was still shining and the smoke was still clearing. Others coughed and stood up, helping each other from under fallen pieces of the buildings. The world went on, despite Wilbur’s death. Despite the fact that Tommy’s heart had been wrenched out his chest and his brother was dead.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 13





	Life After Death

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Blood, death, panic attacks, brief suicidal thoughts

The world paused, the air stilled, and the explosions quieted. Blood and wind rushed in Tommy’s ears while he watched in slow motion as his father plunged his sword into his brother's ribs. He heard screaming and realized it was coming from his throat. He fell to his knees, tears pouring down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his face. His father’s green eyes connected with his for just a moment before his head sunk low. 

Tommy felt the world spinning for a moment, before he realized the sun was still shining and the smoke was still clearing. Others coughed and stood up, helping each other from under fallen pieces of the buildings. The world went on, despite Wilbur’s death. Despite the fact that Tommy’s heart had been wrenched out his chest and his brother was dead. 

Wilbur was dead.

It felt unreal. Impossible. His knees went weak and he collapsed to the ground, enveloped in his own grief and blood and sweat and frozen tears, dry sobs wracking his body.

Across the cratered land, Phil’s head was buried in his son’s bloody chest, his hands on Will’s face, smearing blood across his pale, cold skin. Wind and smoke whipped his hair under his hat, cold air stinging his wet cheeks. He grasped at the heavy, red stained cloak wrapped around Wilbur’s body, whispering apologies and regrets.

“Rest well, my son. I’m so sorry. I’ll take care of Tommy. I promise. I’m sorry.” He placed a gentle kiss to Will’s mass of curly hair, pulling his sword out of his body, flinching at the feeling of it grating against bone. 

He turned, glancing back at the limp body on the stone, and scanning his eyes to his youngest son clutching his own arms, holding himself through brutal cries. He takes a step, and then Tubbo stepped in, tears running down his own face. He wrapped himself around his lanky brother, holding him as they grieve for their lost brother, leader, and inspiration.

\---------------------------------

Staring over the cliff at the bubbling lava, a tug at the back of his mind prodded him to leap over the edge, allowing the fiery warmth to engulf him and swallow his final life. He feels a hand grab the back of his shirt and yank him from the edge. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Dream hissed, his words grating against Tommy’s bones. 

Back at Logsted, Tommy watched as Dream exploded his things again, tossed him a cruel smile, and stepped through the portal again, leaving the boy alone. Well- almost alone. The bluish ghost floated a few feet away, watching curiously. 

“Tommy! You were gone today! I didn’t see muc-” Tommy raises his hand up, stopping the ghost's words.

“I’m tired, Ghostbur.” He ducks into Tnret, leaving the man who’s nothing but a shadow of his brother staring blankly at the cloth tent.

He curls into his small bed, his sore muscles melting into the mattress as he breaks down into tears. His fingers dig into his blonde hair, making little braids in an effort to stop his oncoming panic attack. 

He’s suddenly standing in his childhood home, the fire blazing and the smell of soup wafting from the stove. He’s 7 again, his bare feet padding against the wooden floor. Will is curled up in the armchair, reading a book. Tommy climbs up into his brother's lap, leaning his head against his chest while he watches the jumbled letters on the pages swirl. 

His father is on the couch with Techno, quietly braiding his long pink hair in various places, whispering and holding his son. Silent tears roll down his brother’s face, his knees curled into his stomach as he shakes. 

“What’s wrong with Tech?” The little blonde boy looks up at his 15 year old brother, his whisper filled with concern.

“He’s just having a bad day, Tommy. Dad’s got it, don’t worry. Here, I’ll read to you.” Wilbur ran a hand over Tommy’s hair and turned his book to the beginning as the boy nodded and placed his head under the older boy’s chin. He started quietly reading the story on the pages, occasionally glancing up at his older brother with sadness, watching him cry and shake while their dad did his best to comfort his son. 

Tommy opens his eyes and is in Tnret again, but his breathing has mellowed and his tears have dried. He misses his family, but he knows they don’t miss him. Dream said so. He misses Wilbur the most though. He remembers when they were kids and Wilbur would sing to him when he was sad. He remembers them listening to his discs while in the midst of war, letting the music swallow their fears. 

Now he’s alone. No Wilbur. No music. No Phil. No Techno. No braids. He has no one. And he deserves it. He rolls over and settles into another night of restless, memories of his childhood home mingling with sorrow and melting into regret.

\---------------------------------

Snow falls from the sky while Techno gathers wood from outside his small house for the fireplace. He bumps the door open and sees his father standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup; the same soup he used to make when he was a child. The smell fills the air, and Techno drops the door closed, causing Phil to turn and give him a warm smile.

“Oh! You’re back already! I decided to make some soup for dinner!” He smiled again and turned back to the stove, absentmindedly humming the song Wilbur used to sing to Tommy when he was sad. Techno dropped the wood on the floor, his mind flooded with grief. His eyes widened and he leaned down to pick it up.

“Hand slipped.” He mumbled, and set the wood in the fire, the flames rising, crackling and warming the small home. He sat on the couch and stared at the fire, marveling at how much it reminded him of his childhood. The couch dipped with weight as Phil sat next to him, handing him a bowl and spoon.

“Here, son.” They ate in comfortable silence, spoons clinking quietly against the bowls as they ate liquid memories.

“I miss Will.” Techno quietly broke the silence, his words hanging loosely in the air.

“I do too, Techno. More than I would like to admit sometimes.” 

“We should visit Tommy.” Suddenly he was facing his father, his pink hair swinging from the sudden movement. “He’s all alone, Phil. He’s just a kid, and he’s all alone. And it’s my fault. I could have protected him, but I didn’t. I let my baby brother get exiled and sent away, and I haven’t even visited him. We have to, I-” His rambling is cut off by a sharp sob erupting from his throat, his lungs contracting and refusing to hold air as he starts crying and hyperventilating. 

His father sets down their bowls and wraps his arms around his tall son, cradling his shaking body against his like he’d done when Techno was a child, running his hands through the pink hair. 

“It’s okay, Tech. I’ve got you.” He whispered into his hair, holding him like he’d crumble if he let go, and momentarily, Techno was 16 and safe in his dad’s arms again.

\---------------------------------

The death of Wilbur was a catalyst for their family, shattering their lives and their memories. Every song was tainted, every moment sad. The lack of his presence lingered above them all like a hazy fog, never really dissipating. It was the beginning of the end, and it tore them all so far away from each other that they weren’t sure they’d ever find their way home.

Learning to live after death was the hardest thing they’d been through as a family, and they weren’t even a family anymore.


End file.
